


Jack's Three Dads

by nanianela



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel and Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester are Jack Kline's Parents, Domestic Fluff, Family Dynamics, Family Feels, Family Fluff, Gen, Jack Kline is a Winchester, Season/Series 14, Season/Series 15
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2020-01-20 18:22:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18530575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nanianela/pseuds/nanianela
Summary: The three times Jack K. Winchester calls each one of his fathers 'Dad' within one day.CHAPTER 1: Morning, DeanCHAPTER 2: Afternoon, SamCHAPTER 3: Night, Castiel





	1. Morning - Dean

**Author's Note:**

> This three part story takes place in the future after Season 15, where Jack has been fully accepted into the Winchester family as their child, and Dean and Castiel have been official for some time. Just needed some sweet family stuff after all the frustrating angst the show has been throwing out, haha.

Jack found himself half-awake, flinching as he felt patters falling onto his sleeping bag, cold droplets of water dripping onto his face. The patters tapped on the flapping tent’s drenched yellow skin, the loud hushing noises were three-dimensional, wrapping around him in the tent like a blanket of white noise. He heard Dean swear under his breath and the gray dawn glow dimmed as he threw the rain tarp over the netting on top.

“Dean?” Jack asked feebly, cracking open an eye to see Dean’s shadow tie something off, then a loud zipping as Dean crouched and came back into the two-person tent to sit by the entrance, and wrangle off his clunky hiking shoes that he called “trusty” and Jack called “stinky”.

Dean eased down with a loud sigh to prop himself up by the elbows, a few pops coming from his spine, neck, elbows, old injuries coming back in their little ways.

“Guess we shoulda put that up last night, after all.” Dean said to the ceiling. The smooth skin on his face was shiny with fresh rain. He looked so much younger than he really was, Jack could feel that his soul was so much older.

“This is rain?” Jack said softly from his burrito of a sleeping bag, but he couldn’t really move, he felt so heavy and warm. It was peaceful, like his body was sleeping on without him.

“Is this really the first time you…” Dean trailed off, looking down at Jack with a quizzical expression. Damn, he supposed that _was_ possible…

“It’s beautiful.” Jack whispered, his eyes folding shut, sandy blonde lashes fanning on his cheeks. “It makes me feel... safe.”

Dean snorted and finally wriggled down into his own sleeping bag. The kid just sounded so much like Cas sometimes.

“Glad you think that, ‘cuz our firewood’s now good for dick.” Dean complained, getting snug again with a few shuffles and a sigh, lying on his side facing away from Jack.

Jack chuckled, infectious enough for Dean to let out his own husky laugh.

“What?” Dean chortled.

“ _Dick_ ,” Jack snickered.

" **Don't** tell Cas I taught you that one." Dean chuckled along, until their laughter died down and they both just listened to the hushing white noise surrounding them for a tranquil moment. The pattering grew gradually quieter, until finally the sheets of rain turned into just a drizzle.

“Alllright. Sounds like a break in the shower." Dean groaned. "Let’s get goin’. Our wood’s no good, so no eggs ’n bacon till we get back.”

Dean hummed a tune as they packed it up, not saying much as they tried to get it done as quickly as possible. They shoved the haphazardly collapsed tent slick with rain into the boot of the Impala, and Jack climbed into the passenger's seat as Dean took the wheel. 

"You hungry?" Dean asked him, after he'd fiddled around for a radio station fruitlessly. 

Jack bit his lip, a little embarrassed. He gave him a minuscule nod. 

"Look, Sammy was the same way at your age. Kid grew like a friggin' bamboo shoot." Dean chuckled, looking like a duck on water as he handled the steering wheel with ease, like it was all subconscious by now. "No need to hide it, alright?" 

Jack's small frown instead turned to a tiny smile, and he nodded in understanding. 

“Wanna know what’s just as good as burgers?”

Jack tipped his head to the side. "What?"

“The _morning_ version of burgers.” Dean grinned at him. “I'm talkin' breakfast sandwiches. The greasier, the better.”

They ate their egg sandwiches quietly, watching the sun rise as they leaned up against the shiny black car that, oddly enough, Jack learned he should treat like a member of the family.

Jack chewed and swallowed his last glorious bite, and watched Dean watching the sun as he gulped down the last of his own food. 

“Hey, Dad?” Jack piped up softly.

Dean barely acknowledged that, tilting his ear subtly toward him, not even giving out a grunt like he usually did. He seemed frozen in place— Jack realized he could count on one hand how many times he’d called him that.

“Thanks for taking me camping.” Jack continued, but he could feel his cheeks burning. “This was… fun.” He shot him an innocent gap-toothed smile.

"Mm." Dean simply grunted in acknowledgement before twisting his fingers clean into a thin takeout napkin. "Let's get goin'. Sam says the two of you got work to do." 


	2. Afternoon - Sam

"You know the rules," Dean had one hand curled around the shiny top of the open trunk. Jack looked at all the white plastic loops waiting for them in the boot.

Jack nodded seriously at him. "No second trips."

"That's right, kiddo." Dean cracked one of those toothy smiles at him. "So get grabbin'." 

The two of them waddled up to the front door, heavy bags cutting into their arms all the way to the biceps. 

"Dean-" Sam was the one who saw them coming on the security cams and answered the door, immediately snatching some of the grocery's out of Dean's and Jack's grasps. "Seriously? You can take two trips, you know." 

They entered the cavernous room, taking the staircase down to the main level. Castiel was waiting at the bottom, hands folded over the knob at the end of the handrail.

"Hey, hon." Dean paused on the last step and halfway slung an arm around the angel, who leaned up for a peck in greeting. 

"Coffee?" Castiel asked, and had a soft smile stuck on his face ever since their lips had parted.

"You have no idea how bad," Dean chuckled and took his last step down. " _Yes_. Please." 

After putting the groceries away, Dean and Jack sat at one of the long wooden tables. Dean flipped open and picked away at his laptop, looking grumpy until Castiel placed a steaming mug on the tabletop next to him and wrapped him up into his arms from behind. Dean's eyes flicked shut and he leaned back into the embrace for a moment, exhaling in contentment.

Especially after living on the road (and on the run) his whole life, the cozy embrace of _home_ always made Dean so much more relaxed. Jack didn't know if he knew this by deduction, or by the surface-level mind reading he was trying very hard not to do. Dean said he wanted privacy in his upstairs, but Cas said his door was always open. It was harder than Jack thought to switch gears, but it was probably good training, or they wouldn't have him doing it.

"You've eaten?" Cas asked in his gravelly voice, one hand still clamped to Dean's shoulder. Jack could remember when the two rarely touched- that seemed so strange to him now.

"We had morning burgers." Jack piped up with a grin. Dean chuckled, then swiped his mug off the table to bury his face in it with a loud slurp. 

" _Ahh_ ," Dean sighed. "That's the stuff. Thank you, Cas." 

"Jack. Sam and I are finishing the set up for your lesson today." Castiel turned to him with his kind, upturned eyes with crow's feet in the corners that Jack felt made them look even friendlier. "We'll get you when it's time to begin." 

Jack nodded, knowing better by now than to ask what today's subject was. He'd only find out when he walked in, the walls plastered with pinned newspaper cuttings, textbooks opened to their sections and tabbed with colorful post-its or striped with highlighter, the books lined up in a row from the table's end to end.The smell of the bunker's wood mixed with old, sometimes even ancient, papers and of course Sam's squeaky, chemically dry erase pen. Half of Sam's whiteboard would start stuffed with bullet point topics, the other half blank for notes during the lesson. Jack only had a few more pages until his notebook was full.

Just thinking about it was making his heartbeat kick it up a notch- lessons were one of Jack's favorite things in the whole world. He could nearly hear the squeak of the pen on the whiteboard now, the scribbling of his own pen as his hand flew to keep up. He tried to keep patient where he sat as Castiel left, and resisted the urge to follow him.

Dean continued to slurp away at his coffee, and quirked an eyebrow when he noticed Jack staring. 

"Mm?" He prompted in that wordless way of his. 

"When Castiel hugs you," Jack began, then smiled brightly. "You can't see it, but, well, he uses his wings, too."

When the angel had embraced him from behind, the motion of his black-feathered wings followed his arms, wrapping Dean up securely within their damaged feathers. Most of them were missing, and they were criss-crossed with many scars, bald patches that might never grow feathers again.

"Oh." Dean's eyes flicked down to the tabletop. He fiddled with his mug, running the pad of his thumb along a chip at the edge. "-Didn't know that." He all but grunted. He had a habit of hunching over even when it was just a coffee mug curled in his hand, somehow looking like he was back at the counter of a bar with a whiskey. 

"Well, you do now that I told you." Jack smiled sunnily at him. "He says a lot with his wings, actually. Like another language. Just because he can't fly doesn't mean they don't have a use anymore."

"Huh." Dean nodded, a _fair enough_  expression on his face and took another long sip. Jack was waiting for him to speak up again. He wasn't reading his mind, exactly. He just knew Dean wanted to say something more. Something like that was an angelic perception that he could never really turn off completely. Dean either said "you give me the creeps" or "you're Cas's kid, alright" to it, usually one or the other. Depending on the mood the human happened to be in. 

"Hey," Dean broke the silence with a clearing of his throat like Jack knew he eventually would. "If you notice any more of that kind of thing, you can tell me." 

"You want to know what Cas does with his wings?" Jack tipped his head as he asked, and brought a finger up to his lips in thought. "Geez, I guess it would be weird if they were invisible all the time." His eyes lit up as he smiled brightly. "Sure! I'll tell you." 

Dean chuckled and brought the mug to his lips once again, Jack knew it was to hide a smile behind its rim. This dad of his could be funny like that. 

Jack perked up when he heard Sam's footsteps, and the tallest of his fathers was suddenly there in an archway. 

"We're ready for you." Sam's lips twitched upward into a smile when he saw how Jack gasped and stood up so fast his knees knocked on the table's edge. 

"Coming!" Jack blurted, snatched up his journal, and started to sprint over to him.

"How much longer are you gonna keep up this 'homeschooling' crap, Sammy?" Dean pretended to argue, crooking his elbow over the seat next to him. "You don't turn out right if you don't get your heart broken a couple a' times by the school hotties. Everyone knows that."

"He can go whenever he's ready." Sam began to lead him toward the room they'd be using as the classroom today. "We have a few more bases to cover, first." 

"He won't know how to act at parties!" Dean called down the hallway so he'd have the last word, and Sam couldn't help but let out a snort in a half-annoyed, half-amused sort of way at his older brother. 

"Guess what? I'm only eight pages away from the end of my journal!" Jack gloated, hugging the spiral bound close to his chest. "Well, eight and a half. I rounded like you said I could. Maybe I'll even finish it today!" 

Sam's lips twitched upward again. "Sorry to burst your bubble, kid." Sam said. His eyes were always so kind when they were on him, but they carried deep pools of hurt in them, always. "We're using something different today." 

Sam handed him an unopened notebook, the plastic wrap shining back at him. There was cool art on the cover made out of smeary black lines.

"I can have this?" Jack asked excitedly. 

"It's all yours." Sam seemed happy as Jack tore into it.

"Oh, I get it! I can keep my lines straight without the guides now. Thanks!" Jack piped. The paper was also much thicker and creamier than he was used to, kind of like those important old scrolls they used sometimes. Those didn't have those blue line guides either.

"You don't write in it, Jack." Sam finally pushed the double doors open. A skylight had been opened, spilling natural light in a circle over Castiel. The angel stood with his back to the door, dark and damaged wings spread out wide. He'd taken off his trench coat, just in a white button-up with the sleeves halfway rolled. Jack could see the gaps where Castiel was missing the most feathers. His left side was the worst, with so many missing feathers it reminded Jack nearly of a skinny human's arm, blackened to a crisp.

"What's today's lesson?" Jack blurted before he could stop himself. 

"Wing anatomy. And some life drawing practice." Sam pushed his thick brown hair out of his forehead and tucked it behind his ear. "This will be really helpful, Jack, because me and Dean can't see them. And once you learn this skill, you can make field sketches of any kind of monster or creature you encounter, and journal it. So you can help other hunters in the future, like your grandpa did with his." 

Awestruck by the opportunity, Jack wordlessly took his seat and turned the notebook to the first blank page in front of him. The page was so perfect and fresh looking the way it was, Jack suddenly felt overwhelmed by the idea of marking it up and ruining it. 

"Cas's wings have been damaged over the years." Sam began, sauntering closer to the angel. Normally he wore comfy shoes around the house, but often when he stepped into a teacher role he broke out his nice shoes, his shiny brown oxfords. It was one detail Jack might have loved the most about the professor side of this dad. "You're going to capture them as they are now, and then we'll follow up again soon to see how they heal over time with your grace treatments. I want you to map them, track their changes." 

"I'm... kind of a bad drawer." Jack disclaimed. He felt a blush burning hot on his face. It was probably going to look so stupid if he tried to capture the complexity in front of him. 

"It's just another skill, anyone can build it. We'll start with the foundations." Sam came back and sat in the chair next to him. "Start by drawing a circle." 

It was frustrating and the desktop was speckled with grey eraser crumbs, but slowly a picture of wings was emerging in front of Jack's eyes.  

Sam was a great teacher, no matter what subject.

Jack worked hard at his assignments, and didn't feel like they were for nothing. He was lending a helping hand with Hunt research, and Sam also had a whole course set aside that they were working through about his angel side, and how to harness his powers instead of fear them. After his accident with Mary, it took him a long time to feel comfortable with trying to use his powers again. Practical lessons were all done with Cas, but Sam's information helped him stay calm whenever he practiced.

It felt good to be a good student, and Sam pushed him.

There was something so comforting about him, teaching came so naturally. Jack loved it when he adjusted his reading glasses or swiped his thick brown hair and tucked it behind both ears. He'd tried to call him by Uncle at first, but that just didn't fit. Sam was the one who never gave up on him, even when Dean and Cas did. Sam never had to be convinced that Jack wasn't evil, he'd believed it all along. He knew how hard it was to recoup after being separated from your soul, and was gentle on him when he needed it. These were the things that made Jack realize Sam was yet another one of his fathers. 

Sam was statuesque now, absent-mindedly turning a page as Jack continued to sketch on his own. The tears that were blurring his vision stung, and surprised Jack. He couldn't pin exactly why they were starting. He felt water trickle from a nostril, and he sniffed on instinct. Sam instantly broke out of his trance, and looked to Jack with a puzzled expression. 

"Jack-? Hey, what's wrong?" He took Jack's shoulder into his grip, his expression one of pure compassion. It reminded Jack of a sweet dog.

"I don't know," Jack's voice warbled, and finally brought up the edge of his sleeve to press below his leaky nose and sniffed again. "I was just thinking about... how...  _bad_  it really looks. Or if they hurt-" His throat spasmed and cut off his next words. Jack was surprised at how the bumps kept on coming from his chest, he couldn't talk now even if he wanted to. 

Sam folded him into a secure hug, Jack's cheek pressed to one of his favorite textures in the universe, the softness of a well-worn flannel. Jack squeezed his eyes shut tight and hugged back, and a moment later felt a squeezing pressure at his other side as Castiel joined the hug.

"I can't lie to you and tell you it's painless," Castiel began in a low rumble. "Of course it is. I say this because you'll have your own scars to bear one day, Jack. You already have many." 

"It comes with this life." Sam continued. "A Hunter's life. We can't avoid it. But we can do our best to heal from it- and Cas will, Jack. Your treatments have already helped. Sometimes we just need to be patient." 

Jack nodded, his throat still felt like it would be unreliable to use at the moment. The two men waited for him to set back into motion, to swipe at his cheek and take his pencil back into his grip. 

"I'm almost done. Can you get back in the same spot?" 

* * *

Dean was freshly showered and in his comfiest pajama sweats and cotton tee when he padded barefoot into the Library. His brother and Jack were both hunched over thick volumes at the long wooden table with green reading lamps. Jack's blonde head bobbed and snapped back up as he fought off his sleepiness. Sam was still and laser-focused.

"Half past midnight, Sam? Really?" Dean scolded, and came up to clap his hand heartily to Jack's shoulder. "C'mon, kid. Curfew."

"Crap," Sam sucked in a breath and rubbed at his eyes, pushing his hair back and away from his face. "I guess time got away from us." 

"Any progress?" Dean grunted. 

"A little," Jack yawned and stretched his arms over his head. "I think I read the same paragraph five or six times, though." 

Dean chuckled at that, with these dense volumes it was known to happen. "Alright, kid. Enough dead trees for now. Off to bed. Cas is already there to tuck you in."  

Jack leapt up, happy to be dismissed after a long but rewarding day. Then stopped and looked expectantly at Sam for the magic words.

"Class dismissed," Sam said. He looked so happy when he said it, Jack didn't ever want to stop asking for the permission. 

"Night, dad." Jack told Sam before jogging from the room.

"And  _brush_  your  _teeth!_ " Dean hollered after him.

"Terrible twos and teenage years all rolled into one." Sam chuckled, slipped in a bookmark, and finally shut his book with a faint snap. "Who would have thought  _that_  could happen."

"Yeah, tell me about it." Dean chuckled. "Now, you too, Sammy. Time to hit the hay."


End file.
